


Fireteam Valour

by GreyWolfOfTheNorth



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blunt, F/F, F/M, Fireteam valour, GreyWolf, Halo - Freeform, Kilo - Freeform, Oni, Prometheans, Rail - Freeform, Sharp, Spartans, covenant, falcon - Freeform, flood - Freeform, insurrectionists - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-10 15:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10441362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWolfOfTheNorth/pseuds/GreyWolfOfTheNorth
Summary: The missions of Fireteam Valour as they fight against Insurrectionist, Flood, Covenant and Promethean threats within, but not limited to the Sabbat system.Universe belongs to 343i but all OCs are of my own creation.Fic has no relation to Halo 5 Fireteam Valour.I am aware of some similarities between some of my own characters and preexisting character; this will be addressed later in the story.





	1. Vigilant Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GreyWolf arrives on UNSC Vigilant Spirit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 in my first ever fic. I completely encourage criticism although I do ask that it is kept both constructive and cordial.  
> Anything that contradicts with the preexisting universe is a mistake, I will do what I can to fix these.

GreyWolf: Valour actual  
Blunt: Valour II  
Sharp: Valour III  
Falcon: Valour IV  
Kilo: Valour V  
Rail: Valour VI

The pelican flew silently through the asteroid field, the onboard sensors warning of any nearby objects allowing it to swerve an avoid them. As it rounded one particularly large asteroid a station came into view; though dwarfed by one of Tatshut II’s moons (which the station orbited) it was still massive by human standards and could serve as a refit and resupply station for multiple frigates at once. The station consisted of a series of progressively smaller rings with the largest near the ‘top’ and smallest near the ‘bottom’. Most of the rings had ships docked with them, but the lowest was instead bristling with antenna, dishes and blinking lights, it was this ring GreyWolf made his way towards.  
GreyWolf was sat in the back of his pelican sharpening one of his many knives, when the radio crackled to life in the cockpit. Spinning the knife in his hand he slid it back in to it’s sheath and strode to the cockpit just in time to hear:  
“-unidentified pelican this is ‘UNSC Vigilant Spirit’ please respond”  
Flicking a switch he responded, “UNSC Vigilant Spirit, this is GreyWolf requesting entry into docking bay 13.”  
“Uh – GreyWolf I’m afraid that bay is off limits to non-ONI personnel I’m going to need your call-“  
“Wraith” cut in GreyWolf.  
“Verifying...” the operator sounded slightly nervous, likely a result of ONI’s reputation amongst the run of the mill naval and marine personnel, “verified. Welcome aboard sir.”  
GreyWolf switched off the radio and sat down in the pilot’s seat. Donning his helmet he turned to the controls and, once he had disabled the auto-pilot, guided the pelican towards a small hanger on the ring he had been making his way towards previously.  
The interior of the hangar was a flurry of movement, brightly lit by a series of large floodlights mounted along the ceiling. The floor, a dull grey with white markings to indicate landing, unloading and loading zones, was covered in scratch and scruff marks where boxes and crates had been dragged across it. In one of the corners a group of Spartan IVs sat on a collection of crates clutching a deck of cards, their beige armour indicating that they had recently been stationed on one of Tabshat II’s desert moons.  
-=X=-  
The Spartan team turned to see a Spartan clad in scout armour with a sniper rifle slung over his back and an SMG and magnum at his side stride down the ramp of a recently landed pelican. In his left hand the Spartan clutched a standard issue UNSC carry bag whilst his right swung in perfect, parade ground timing with his stride.  
“Who’s the new guy?” asked Sharp turning back to the game of cards and dealing to the others.  
“I dunno,” her brother Blunt commented “his armour’s clearly seen some action, and his weapons, all silenced, my guess is spec ops, maybe espi-”  
Before he could get any further he was cut off by Falcon “Yes he has seen action and I wouldn’t refer to him as ‘new guy’, he’s our new CO, GreyWolf.”  
“Wait! That’s GreyWolf? I thought he’d be taller.”


	2. Introductions

GreyWolf knocked on the door frame of the ONI officer in charge of all planet-side operations on Tabshat II and its three moons.  
“Enter.”  
Pushing the door open GreyWolf entered the office and snapped to attention in front of the desk, a large mahogany piece of furniture indicating the officer was either very lucky or very successful. The officer, who’s name GreyWolf recalled to be ‘Crass’ returned GreyWolf’s salute before indicating for him to be at ease.  
Crass and GreyWolf spoke for a while; they discussed the various skill sets of the members of Fireteam Valour who GreyWolf would be leading and Crass briefed GreyWolf on the nature of the missions which he and his team would be partaking in.  
They had spoken for around an hour when Crass handed GreyWolf a file containing the details of his team’s first mission which would be commencing in just under a week’s time and a datapad linked with the ship’s local network.  
Once he had been dismissed GreyWolf saluted and, turning sharply, strode out of the room towards his own quarters which he had passed on his way to Crass’ office. As he strode down the corridor GreyWolf spotted a Spartan clad in black, recon armour stalking down the corridor ahead of him.  
As they passed, GreyWolf stopped Falcon.  
“Spartan, where is the rest of your unit?” he asked.  
“Sparring in the training facilities on floor 3 last I saw them sir.”  
Thanking her, GreyWolf continued along the corridor after telling her to meet him there half an hour later.  
-=x=-

   
Overlooking the training room where the Spartans were training was an observation centre with mirrored glass providing a one way view of the training room floor. Behind the glass stood GreyWolf, unmoving he showed no outward signs of his feelings, though under his helmet he intently watched as two of the Spartans sparred.  
Blunt stumbled backwards as a thunderous blow from Kilo sent his head reeling. Recovering just in time to side step a stomping kick aimed for his midriff, Blunt sent his own flurry of punches in return. Kilo blocked the first couple but one eventually got past his defences catching him in the stomach with enough force to knock the wind out of any other Spartan. Instead, he barely flinched as he took two more punches before catching the third and pulling Blunt’s arm up him locking it behind his back. Blunt gritted his teeth desperately trying to break the hold, but was eventually forced to concede.  
GreyWolf watched as Kilo released Blunt’s arm allowing him a minute to recover before squaring off again. Looking away from the fight he turned to one of the gun ranges where Sharp stood in a booth next to Rail, battle rifle in hand.  
The calm voice of the AI tasked with running the training simulation came on over the loud speaker: “Firing lanes two and three, please prepare for close to mid range live fire target practice. On my mark...Mark!”  
Sharp raised her battle rifle firing off a series of rounds towards the nearest target hitting it in the head and shoulders. She hit another two targets before Rail opened up with her saw. The roar of the light machine gun emptying 920 rounds per minute of lead into the targets was deafening. Within seconds the first three targets blinked red and disappeared. Rail hit another two targets before having to reload allowing Sharp to catch up. Rail finished reloading and continued to fire. The two were neck and neck as the last four targets appeared at the far end of the lane. Sharp hit one of her targets but then, in her rush to hit the next, missed allowing Rail to take the lead hitting her final target a fraction of a second before Sharp did.  
Cursing, Sharp tore off her helmet: “God damn it Bellona!” she shouted at the AI, “That was a hit, why didn’t you register it?”  
“I’m sorry Spartan Sharp, you missed by 0.03 metres” replied Bellona, as she appeared by a control panel.  
“3cm? You have to be fucking kidding me,” shouted Sharp. “C’mon, that’s a fucking hit!”  
The hologram opened its mouth but was interrupted by Falcon as she stepped out of the shadows, “Miss is a miss Sharp,” she cut in “you lost, deal with it.”  
“Screw you Falcon,” spat Sharp “should’ve known you’d side with her.”  
In the blink of an eye Falcon closed the gap between the two and had shoved Sharp against the wall with her forearm across her throat.  
“What was that?”  
-=X=-  
GreyWolf strode to the door and had entered the training room in a matter of seconds. The first to notice him was Rail who had removed her helmet and was watching the exchange with an amused smirk.  
She snapped to attention with a shout of “Commander on deck!”  
Kilo and Blunt came to attention followed by Falcon who shoved Sharp away. Sharp seethed but came to attention whilst glaring daggers into the back of Falcon’s helmet.  
GreyWolf returned their salutes and turned to the hologram.  
“Belladonna, the documents please.” Addressing the Spartans again he gestured to the documents which were holographically displayed beside him, “Fireteam Valour, I am your new commanding officer, we will be operating under the command of ONI. Our first mission will commence in three days time at 0700 hours. The briefing will take place tomorrow at 0715 hours. That is all.”


	3. Deployment

-=X=-  
GreyWolf nodded to the five Spartans seated in the front row of the briefing room. He greeted them and turned to the hologram displayed on the podium at the front of the room.  
“Good morning Fireteam Valour.” he began “Two weeks ago we received intelligence that a high ranking Insurrectionist officer would be present on Tatshut II’s surface for an inspection of some form of weapon that they have been working on. We also plan to retrieve intelligence from inside their headquarters. There is limited intelligence on this OP but we have identified some areas of interest using satellite imagery.”  
The Spartans looked on with interest as he turned to the board.  
“First, the headquarters, we believe that they are positioned here,” he said indicating a point on the western slope of a small mountain “Alpha team will enter here and infiltrate the enemy server room, they will then insert a chip containing ONI intrusion programs into the computers, retreat to rendezvous point Lima and secure an LZ.”  
“Alpha team will consist of Falcon and Kilo,” stated GreyWolf turning back to the Spartans “Falcon, you will be infiltrating the server room and running recon, Kilo you’re in charge of extraction if things go wrong.”  
Falcon rose to her feet, “Sir, do we have any indication of the enemy’s defences and numbers.”  
“We cannot risk them detecting our presence and thus have been unable to run much reconnaissance; however an extreme altitude pelican flight was able to run a brief scan.” He indicated a map displayed beside him “Belladonna, enlarge the map please.”  
The map showed a small mountain on the fringes of a range which bordered a large desert. On the West slope of the mountain was a cross labelled Alpha and on the North Slope was another labelled Bravo. It was to this that GreyWolf was now pointing.  
“This is the secondary objective, the hangar, Bravo and Charlie team will enter here. Bravo team will consist of me, Blunt and Sharp; our objective will be to eliminate an insurrectionist leader, Donald Trunk.” As he said this, a picture of a middle-aged, slightly overweight man appeared on screen. “Trunk’s father, Fred Trunk, was a successful business man before the beginning of the war. However, during the war he really made his fortune by manufacturing weaponry for the UNSC. There were rumours of some shady dealings but the task force assembled to investigate couldn’t prove it. When the war ended Fred retired and gave the family business to Donald. With the war over Trunk industries soon began to lose money so Trunk began to sell weapons to the insurrectionists, as a result conflict escalated, the UNSC began to buy from Trunk industries again... I’m sure you can figure out the rest. Anyway when the UNSC found out they sent a team to arrest him but he escaped and fled to join the insurrectionists.”  
Rail stood “Sir, we cannot possibly hope to make it to the LZ before the insurrectionists chase us down.”  
GreyWolf turned to face her “That’s where you come in Rail. Whilst Alpha and Bravo team complete their objectives you will place explosives around the entrance to the mountain. Once the objectives are achieved and all friendly personnel are clear of the blast zone you will blow them stopping any hostile pursuit.”  
Addressing the whole group again GreyWolf spoke “As we wish to avoid detection until the primary objective has been achieved we will be inserting via drop pod during one of the meteorite storms common to this system.”  
-=X=-  
GreyWolf jolted upright, sweating and breathing heavily, swinging his legs out of bed he stumbled to a sink on the wall nearby. Leaning against the sink, he waited for his breathing to steady, staring into his own eyes, slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep. Having hastily pulled on shorts and a gym vest, GreyWolf grabbed his gym bag and strode out the door.  
The gym was dark when GreyWolf entered; lights flicked on, activated by his entry, revealing a space filled with punching bags, targets and a variety of weights. Striding to the nearest target he opened a box containing a set of matt black, razor sharp knives.  
The first knife hit the target as images; aftershocks of his dream blurred his vision, blood dripping onto snow. The second knife, smoke rising from a crashed warthog. The third, spent cartridges scattered across the ground. Four, limp hands clutching at gaping wounds. Five, the light draining out of piercing blue eyes. Reaching into the box, GreyWolf discovered it to be empty; he strode to the targets and yanked the knives from where they had pierced the centre ring of the targets.  
-=X=-  
The darkness of space became streaked with orange as the pod entered the atmosphere; all around him GreyWolf could see similar orange streaks plunging towards the rapidly growing mountains below.  
The pods computers activated the braking jets, causing the pod to suddenly and rapidly decelerate. GreyWolf was slammed forward, his helmet taking the brunt of the impact as he was whipped back into the padding behind him. The hatch flew open and he sprung out SMG raised as he scanned the surrounding area. Glancing at his hud GreyWolf saw that all of his squad had reported successful landings except Valour VI.  
“Valour VI, Rail, report in...”  
Silence.  
“Valour VI do you read?”  
“Sir,” Blunt sounded slightly worried, “Rail is down, her pod landed on its side, she’s unconscious.”  
“Roger that, mark the location.” GreyWolf switched to an open channel “Fireteam Valour, converge on my position, mission continues as planned except you Sharp, stick with Rail, keep her alive.”  
Once the whole team had assembled GreyWolf strode over to a cluster of three SOIEVs and yanked the hatch open exposing a matt black mongoose. GreyWolf straddled the mongoose and, waiting for Blunt to mount the other mongoose, drove towards the waypoint on his hud.


	4. Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time. Hope you enjoy anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that there is no such thing as a 'British' accent (I'm actually British myself) but since I expect that most of the readers are American I chose to just use British. I don't really imagine most of them would know the difference between a Devonshire accent and Welsh one.

Loose stones clattered down the mountain-side as Falcon gracefully leaped to the top of a nearby boulder followed by the deceptively agile form of Kilo. With his massive form further enhanced by his Mjolnir armour he looked a lot like one of the bears she had seen in the movies she used to watch as a child.  
Falcon shook her head to get rid of the though, these days she often found herself drawn into the bittersweet memories of her childhood.

Distracted by her thoughts Falcon suddenly found herself pitching forward as her foot caught on a loose rock. Just before she toppled off the edge of the boulder Falcon felt a large hand grab her shoulder and tug her back to her feet.

"Y'all right love?" Said Kilo his thick British accent rumbling with slight amusement.

"I'm fine," snapped Falcon, her face burning with embarrassment, "and what did I tell you about the 'love' thing?"

Chuckling to himself Kilo turned and carried on climbing the hill, "C'mon, we need to keep moving"

-=X=-

Halfway up the side of the mountain Falcon found the entrance to the air vent they were looking for, the hillside was littered with them but intelligence analysts had identified this one as a probable cooling vent for the server room. Reaching down Kilo grabbed the edges of the vent and, leaning back, slowly tore it from its mounting. Clambering into the vent Falcon looked back to see Kilo un-slinging his machine gun and moving to stand on a nearby outcrop. Turning back to the vent she began crawling slowly forward, the soft scrape of her armour against the metal vent the only sound in the darkness.


	5. Arrival

GreyWolf was crawling along a ledge leading to the insurrectionist hangar when the civilian craft first appeared, a small bright light in the sky.

Blunt had also noticed the ship: "Shit. Sir that's Trunk's ship, he's early."

"Roger that, alright looks like were going to have to risk those sensors."

Rising, GreyWolf began jogging toward the distant hangar.

-=x=-

Rounding a jutting rock on the mountainside GreyWolf saw the luxury craft enter the hangar. As the back end of the ship entered the hangar, blast doors, so rusted and worn by time they could barely be distinguished from the rock around them, began to slide shut. GreyWolf broke into a sprint quickly closing the distance to the door and sliding through seconds before they closed. Glancing back, GreyWolf saw Blunt sprinting toward the doors, and heard the thud as the doors closed, with Blunt still outside.

"I'm sorry sir there doesn't seem to be anyway in."

"OK, staff. Move to assist Kilo. GreyWolf out."

_Shit_


	6. Target Located

GreyWolf slid through the shadows in the corner of the hangar, his active camo unit was all well and good but at the end of the day, machines break, physics doesn't. In the centre of the hangar a solid wall of bodies separated him from Trunk, glancing up he saw catwalks and lighting rigs covering the roof. Reaching to his hip he pulled out a grappling hook, aimed it at a catwalk hanging from the ceiling and pulled the trigger.

GreyWolf clambered over the railing on the catwalk, dropping silently on the other side. He crawled till he could see Trunk, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, over the sea of heads and then set about checking his weapons. Scope aligned - Check. Lens cap removed - Check. Barrel clean and undamaged...

GreyWolf glanced up in alarm as his motion sensors indicated movement nearby. Slinging his rifle across his back GreyWolf scuttled backwards into the shadows and activated his camo unit just as a head appeared over the side of the catwalk. The man, an engineer judging by his blue stained overalls and tool-box, trudged along the catwalk toward GreyWolf. The man hummed quietly as he knelt, opened his tool-box and set to work checking the lighting rig that hung just above his head. GreyWolf watched as the man bent down to grab a tool when paused. Following his line of vision GreyWolf spotted a small, matt grey circle lying on the floor by the man's heel. Activating the zoom on his helmet GreyWolf could just make out the Misriah armoury logo embossed in the centre of what he quickly realised was the lens cap of his sniper rifle. The engineer realised this too and began reaching toward a radio clipped to his belt.

GreyWolf struck, slipping his knife from the sheath on his shoulder, cringing at the grating sound of metal on metal, he pulled his arm back and in one fluid motion extended his arm, flicked his wrist and released. Time seemed to slow as the knife, a spinning wheel of light, crossed the gap between the two men. The man turned just before the knife hit him so that it buried itself in his chest, knocking him backwards towards the railing.

GreyWolf dove forward, hands grasping for the man as he slowly pitched over the railing and fell toward the hangar floor below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering inspiration for the grappling hook was inspired by Carolina's weapon/tool from rooster teeth's Red vs Blue


End file.
